Meme Away: Braffed
A meme is developing1…
There’s been some good talk around these parts lately. That hipster who hadn’t heard of Pavement struck a collective nerve. It seems young folks are as unaware of the context surrounding their blog bands as olds are ignorant to the latest bands and musical trends. These are important issues that must be explored. First up: Zach Braff and why he hates America.
Consider this (the scene essentially ends around a minute and a half, so don’t watch it past that point unless you think Zach Braff is hot)…
A cute girl2 offers you her headphones. You listen for all of ten seconds and your life is changed forever. Or something like that.
Many point to this scene as the end of indie rock as we once knew it. A band that was personal and private was finally exposed to the masses and it all blew up. Suddenly every jackass with a wifi connection was reading Pitchfork and downloading the latest Mp3’s from Napster3. No longer were bands discovered in clubs, on college radio, in record stores, or wherever. Once Braff4 broke The Shins, folks couldn’t get enough of the band…or at least enough of that one song playing on Natalie Portman’s iPod in that one movie with the guy from Scrubs.
Braffites loved the Shins for all the wrong reasons. They didn’t care that James Mercer and co. sounded like the Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, or Guided By Voices5. The irony of their place in Sub Pop’s lineup among the legends of grunge was lost on them. The context of the original video for the song had no meaning to the frat boys and jock straps with man-crushes on Zach Braff. (Look below.)
In the video, there are scenes reminiscent of album covers by The Replacements, Hüsker Dü, and The Minutemen, among others. Do you think any of the bros who watched that scene gave a shit about any of those bands? Hell, they didn’t know who those bands were. They just knew that chicks like Natalie Portman liked that kind of music and it could help to show their sensitive sides6.
Suddenly, indie became a mainstream genre, a genre with which one could label tracks on iTunes. There were as many backwards hats at shows as there were black-rimmed glasses. The bands and music that was once a secret was now there for everyone. It wasn’t about finding that rare Girls vs. Boys/Guided By Voices7 split 7″ anymore. It’s about creating your own personal brand…
Whatever.
What was once private and truly appreciated by just a few has now been prostituted out by the likes of Braff and his bros to the masses with no deeper meaning than “it sound cool.” This is what I like to refer to as being “Braffed.” Braffed is when a bunch of d-bags get the inside scoop on a band or movement in the underground and claim it as their own for no other reason than they think it will make them look cool. They have no context for the music. They don’t know the history. It’s just something they can post on their MyFace page as if it were a badge of honor. F that.
The real problem a Braffed band or album causes is the musical ignorance in our children8. Music becomes “just music” and “a little bit of everything” becomes a musical genre. The message of a song is lost as the Braffication pairs the music with images of Volkswagen and iPods. Braffing scares me like no other scourge ever has9.
How do you feel about Braffing? Does it worry you that something you once cherished as your own would soon be loved by all the meatheads on Jersey Shore10? What’s something you once thought was only special to you but is now soiled by a major Braffing?
Please tell your Braffing stories. The only way we will put an end to Zach Braff and his evil plan to destroy America is to share our experiences. Feel free to post the gory details in the comments or post them on your own blog11. We must stop the Braffing before it’s too late.
Notes:
1Actually, it’s been a meme long before anyone even knew what a “meme” was, but we’re exploring here.
2This is completely subjective, but Natalie Portman is not unattractive. In fact, she looks pretty good next to Devendra Banhart.
3Yes, I realize that there are better examples here and that using “Napster” dates me.
4This was long after McDonald’s and Scrubs broke them by also using “New Slang (when you notice the stripes)”.
5Let’s be honest. These new “fans” were unaware that the Beach Boys ever did anything important beyond singing about girls and beaches and they’ve never heard of the other two.
6When they weren’t practicing date rape.
7That’s twice with the Guided By Voices in one post. I must have them on the mind.
8I am going off the deep end here.
9Aside from AIDS, terrorism, global climate change, the Tea-Bagger movement, etc.
10Or at the very least be used inappropriately as Snooki get hit in the face for the fourth time this season.
11That and it will extend the meme.
Young and Old
A comment in my last post struck me. Longtime reader and taint haiku-ist Carrie had this to say1:
This is why I feel I have to fight so hard to be credible, because most of the people my age–quite frankly–listen to music with no reference points (also note: I had a moment of swelling pride today when a 40-something guy on one of the online forums I frequent told me my musical depth gives him hope)
Two things: 1) The fact that as a youngster, Carrie has to fight for credibility due to her generation’s inability to move beyond P4k and iTunes. 2) Carrie is not like her peers in that she has impressive “musical depth.”
First of all, Carrie doesn’t have to prove anything. A quick glance of her blog, Colossal Youth, and you’ll quickly realize that she has plenty of credibility. This is also proven by my second thing above. I’m glad that is out of the way.
What I wanted to get at is the fact that it’s way easier to have musical reference points when you’ve been at it as long as I have2. Of course I know Pavement, Brainiac3, Guided By Voices, and Archers of Loaf3. I lived those years. There was no work involved. I went to the club once or twice a week and saw some shows. The local record emporium kept me updated. There was very little work to it.
I don’t blame the young for not always knowing music’s history. It takes work4. I don’t know that I always put in the work to know newer bands these days. It’s OK.
On the other hand, I did do a lot of the work necessary to gain that point of reference. I loaded up on quintessential albums in the used section at Used Kids5. I’ve read the books and magazine articles. I put in my time to learn about the trajectory of music. It’s not easy, but it’s totally worth it.
There’s no excuse with Google and Wikipedia and whatever not to know about music’s past. It’s easier than it used to be. Someone name-drops Lydia Lunch. You run over to Wikipedia and search it out to find that she was a pioneer of No Wave and has deep connections with Sonic Youth. It’s really not that hard.
Of course, we older folk can’t expect younger generations to know about our music if we don’t teach them. Take this evening. I had a conversation with a friend about the indie scene in Ohio back in the nineties6. It got some wheels in my head spinning. I put on some Guided By Voices while I fed and bathed my daughter. I sang and danced to the music and taught her a new word: Ohio. Her indie rock education began a long time ago, but this was the beginning of another conversation over Ohio’s contribution to music.
This does not leave out the young people. They have to hold old cranks like myself by the hand and tell us about new bands so that we don’t fall behind7. Of course, an exchange between young and old is always necessary to advance thought, even in music.
Anyways, Carrie’s comment made me think and think some more is what I’ll do.
There are more angles to look at this topic. Take beer, for instance. Kids know how to get shit-faced and have a good time no matter how terrible the beer tastes. Older beer drinkers know what tastes good and how to get the same effect out of three beers as opposed to twelve.
I have always felt that I’ve had a lot to learn from those younger than I, but they can learn from me as well. So, that’s where this blog fits in. I don’t have many readers at the moment, but I know someone will glean something worthwhile from my words at some point.
What do you think? What can we learn from each other? What have you learned from folks younger/older than yourself?
1In her comment footnotes no less!
2I was one of those kids affected by Nirvana. I smelled of the teen spirit. I grew up in grunge and the early days when hardcore transformed into lo-fi which later became the all-encompassing indie.
3If these boys are too obscure for you, look ’em up. Buy something today. I’ll wait.
4Although I always prided myself at understanding from where a band came or their influences, I can’t say I always put in the necessary work to truly get a band.
5If you’ve never been, it’s really worth the trip to Columbus, OH.
6Yes, we had a scene. Guided By Voices, The Breeders, Afghan Whigs, Brainiac, Gaunt, New Bomb Turks, etc.
7Or we could just read some blogs.
Girls
February 8, 2010 – Girls at The Blue Note, Columbia, MO
Rock shows. I used to see a lot of rock shows back in the day. I don’t see nearly as many these days. I certainly don’t see all the ones I should, but sometimes…sometimes I make my way out of the house for a rock show or two.
I used to also go to those shows to chase girls or possibly impress them1. Once, a girl (actually, very much a woman) licked my ear clean. (Well, a dude nearly did the same at another show2.) It was all girls, beer, and rock ‘n roll back in those days.
All three of those things have completely different meanings to me now. My partner is not a girl; she’s a woman, a womyn even. The only girl in my life is only 17 months old. The beer is certainly different these days as I have traded in swill for bourbon barrel-aged, dry-hopped, Brettanomyces, etc. as my bread-in-a-bottle. Some of that has to do with an increase in income, but it mostly has to do with the development of a finer palate.
The rock ‘n roll is the one thing that hasn’t changed. I still long for new records and to see a rock show that excites me. That may explain why I hit the Blue Note3 early for this one.
Upon entering, I could tell by the empty lobby that I had made a classic, newbie mistake of going to a show too early. The openers wouldn’t go on for 45 minutes. Since I am not too young and naive to make this mistake, the only reason for my unnecessary punctuality had to be my ever-advancing age4.
At one point, I was accosted by hipsters who somehow thought I was younger than I am. They wanted to talk about bands I had no time to hear. These hipsters couldn’t understand things like being a parent, an inability to stay out after 1 am, being married to a woman who didn’t like rock shows, Girls were a rock band, and Pavement5. So, I quickly slithered away, hoping that I didn’t have to explain myself to another dude in a scarf and 12 years my junior.
Bands started playing. Memphis’ Magic Kids opened. Throughout the set, I wondered why there were so many retro 50’s/60’s acts these days. Sure, they were peppy, even poppy, but it sort of turned old and a little played rather quickly. It was like I had heard this before…I know. My parents used to program the family car/van radio to all the oldies stations in Columbus and Dayton. I know every oldies song ever. That’s what these Magic Kids sounded like except without the legendary hit-makers in their midst. At least they were happy, very happy.
The originally scheduled openers Smith Western showed up way past their curfews6 to play your favorite teen grunge band hits. They were actually a breath of fresh air as they borrowed more from 20 years ago than 50. The venue swallowed them a bit, but I have to tip my hat to any band who shows up late after many hours on the road and plays without an ounce of fatigue. This band has promise.
At some point during SW’s set, I finally found a table of friends and acquaintances to keep me company and not make me feel so old7.
Girls came on and ripped through their set rather effortlessly. They played fresh and poppy at the start. The middle had the expected lull, but they finished strong. I was most appreciative of the two-song encore. It was way past my bedtime at this point.
Girls were good but not unexpected. Although it was a rock show I sought and received, it also contained the prerequisite forgettable openers, too green to be memorable. Those things were the same.
Maybe one of these days some band will help me remember what was like to be excited at a rock show again. That would be new and the same, but it would be welcome either way.
1It was mostly to see the rock show and ogle at young girls who were way out of my league. Ah, youth.
2OK, so the lick from the woman was unwanted. She asked for my last cigarette, which I produced as I had another pack in the car. She was a middle-aged groupie/photographer at a Guided By Voices show in Dayton, OH. The dude who licked my face was Eric Davidson of New Bomb Turks who were opening for…yes, you guessed it…Guided By Voices. However, this time it was the year prior at the Alrosa Villa in Columbus where Dime-Bag Darrell was shot.
3The Blue Note is the big rock show venue here in Columbia, MO, my current home.
4Which continues to advance in years come Thursday.
5A 23-year-old guy thought that Pavement was a super group of some sort. Well, if mean that they were super awesome and could conjure Satan in a young virgin’s womb by simply playing a single note, he would have been wrong. They aren’t a super group by any definition. They’re my favorite band and you may have heard something about a reunion tour this summer.
6Rumor had it they were all seven and that they had to wait for their mom to get back from the grocery to take them to the gig.
7They were all people who work with my wife and a spouse. They all get out more than I, so I’m not sure who made whom feel young.
The Flaming Lost
Disclaimer: I only published this post because I was tired of trying to write it in a way that made sense. Do with it as you please. I have thick skin. You could also tell me something that I did right or mostly berate me. Whatever.
I don’t watch a lot of TV (or a lot of TV with a purpose). I watch some comedic programs1 and certain sporting events2, but I really don’t have a regular TV schedule I follow, except for Lost. I just watch Lost.
Last night was season premier night for my (only) favorite show. I’ve waited since the end of season five3 for the final season to commence. Why? I dunno. It could be the viral marketing4 or complex characters or multi-layered narratives or…it’s just a good show. Lost broke out of the box5 of the typical TV show by transcending time and space6, reality and science fiction7, and basic bad guy/good guy dichotomies8 like no other show has ever done before.
I was thinking about Lost‘s trajectory over the past five seasons and it sort of reminded me of the Flaming Lips’ last six albums9. The first season of Lost, much like 1993’s Transmissions from the Satellite Heart10, starts off fresh, big, and different. Both the album and show explore fledgling love triangles, abductions, and questions of faith. It’s really the beginning for both the TV show and the band11.
Both the second season and the Lips’s Clouds Taste Metallic take much darker turns than their predecessors. Evils are revealed alongside sad realities. Ships are set sail, destroyed, and abandoned. One could even make a case that both follow-ups closely resemble the tenor and tone of Empire Strikes Back, but that would be too nerdy. In the end, the black guy is sent away and all hope is lost12.
The series of Lip’s albums and Lost take strange turns but go a long way in preparing their fans for what’s to come. Scientists race for cures and try to solve the unknowns of their surroundings. Waiting for heroes and unveiling the mysteries of science thematically carry these works. The Soft Bulletin13 and Lost‘s third season were breaking points for each. The Lip’s album topped many year-end lists and is generally considered their breakthrough effort. The castaways of Lost were finally within reach of the outside world as their narrative was about to take a rather severe turn in the seasons to come.
Much is expanded upon in both the Lips’ and Lost‘s narratives. Their follow-ups to their breakthroughs extended themes and aesthetic. Season five was as much a disappointment as At War with the Mystics. And the jury is still out on Embryonic and the still-fresh season six of Lost14.
Throughout the Lips’ discography they’ve covered topics ranging from the existential to the downright comical, mirroring Lost as if existing in a parallel universe15…
Anyway, we watched the season premier of Lost and like every time I buy a new Flaming Lips’ record, I feel…well…a little lost. But that kind of lost a is a happy lost. A lost in which reality is suspended. A flash of light blinds for a moment and I’m transported somewhere else. The best music and even the best of TV do that for the consumer. It’s better than any drug. That’s why we keep going back. That’s why I can’t wait for Tuesdays and for nine months to pass between seasons of my favorite TV show.
1The Office, Thirty Rock, and Stewart/Cobert are the only comedic shows worth watching. End of discussion…unless of course you want to debate my point in the comments, but I don’t think you will.
2I primarily watch Ohio State football and basketball. I know it doesn’t fit with the blog, but that’s who I am.
3That was like nine months ago. I like that each season is 15-17 straight weeks of new episodes, but the trade-off is to wait those nine months between a season-ending cliffhanger and the big reveal at the start of the next season.
4Of course, besides some videos and chat boards, I’m talking about all the spoilers out there. When a season was moving a bit too slowly, I just checked some spoilers to wet my appetite.
5The idiot box, so to speak.
6Usually this element of a show loses me, but because it was slipped in subtly, after they already had audience buy-in, I’m rolling with it. Now, if I could just figure out what to do with the alternate reality/side-backs.
7Although a science fiction is the genre, Lost is more than that as it dances in and around reality.
8I have always loved that the characters are never good or bad. They just are. There’s a ton of layers to every character, giving the drama more depth than any other show on TV.
9 I realize these are not the Lips’ first six albums. This is just where my awareness of the Lips began. Also, I did not include Zaireeka because I don’t have that much time, patience, or CD players to make it work.
10Again, this is where my Lips fandom began.
11The Flaming Lips as we know them today.
12Pun intended and it is strange that Eko (among other characters of color) and the Lips’ Ronald Jones are no longer in the picture.
13Easily one of my favorite albums of all-time and certainly my favorite Lips’ effort.
14OK. I’m just getting lazy here.
15Way too late spoiler alert. Although, I think I already mentioned the parallel universe thing. Oh well. This post is slowly falling apart.
Emo is dead.
OK. So, I’m like eight or so years behind on this declaration, but at least I’m right.
Emo was actually pretty dead before it even started for me1. I came of age in the nineties when we had one, maybe two labels for what we listened to2. I blame electronica and the internets for the proliferation of unneeded and, frankly, unwanted music genres. I heard the term “emo” for the first time in the late nineties to describe anything from Modest Mouse to Jawbreaker to Sunny Day Real Estate3. I really didn’t care for the term as it simply divided up my record collection even more. Emo meant very little to me.
It meant even less when it hit MTV. Every other band was labeled as “emo” whether they were or not, sort of like what they did to grunge or hardcore back in the day4. I watched and cringed as it spiraled from a somewhat annoying musical aesthetic to a downright obnoxious fashion trend found on the racks at Hot Topic.
Anyway, one of the originators from the emo scene was Chicagoan post-rock outfit Joan of Arc5. They were as emo-tional as the next band, but they were way more arty and esoteric than those emos with stars in their eyes. They screamed and whispered, freaked out and quietly minimalized the effect, but somehow they pulled together coherent albums from bits and pieces of indie rock genius. Their songs may not have been complete, but their albums felt as album-like as anything anyone else has released in the last 15 years.
That said, Joan of Arc Presents: Don’t Mind Control is a cacophony of an album not likely to help you understand the conundrum that is Joan of Arc or the idea of emo any more than when you started reading this post. The brothers Kinsella enlisted the help of like 1036 Chicago musicians who have previously played in JoA to help them fill two pieces of circular vinyl with whatever they had lying around to make one of the more interesting compilations I’ve heard in a while7. The difference here is that it’s a select group of bands connected to one band, none of them very well-known outside of this circle.
Thankfully, this is not an emo record. If this is what emo could have become, I would like emo. Of course, this is not emo, so I still don’t like that. The album is good though. It’s as pleasant a surprise as the engrossing JoA project Presents Guitar Duets. Kinsellas hang with some cool and very talented musicians for reals. The gambit of possibilities are all here as folks play some garage rock, ambient, math rock, white boy soul, etc.
New8 kids on the dead emo block are Los Campesinos!
with their scream/sing-songy, boy/girl, pop manifestos of sexuality and longing for some American rock ‘n roll. At first listen, one might not hear the emo on their sleeves, but as the record plays, you pick up on sudden start/stop action and some pretty gut-wrenching vocal performances. The largest difference between Los Campesinos! and most traditional emo bands is that they have a girl. That and one can tell by their lyrics that they may very well have had sex with one or more girls9. To boot, the instrumentation is large, varied, and intense.
This music is what emo would sound like with horns, a sense of humor, and some pop sensibilities. Emo could have evolved into Los Campesinos!, but it didn’t. They are certainly no emo band, but you can hear the connection. Either way, their latest LP Romance Is Boring is a fantastically big record, worthy of the path blazed by labelmates Broken Social Scene and Stars.
When a traditional band of a genre and youngin of similar ilk release records on the same day that do nothing but obliterate said genre, that genre is dead. Emo is dead. I don’t care how late I am with this declaration, but it’s dead as dead. No more wisps of jet-black hair over a distraught teenager’s right eye will be tolerated. No more screams over guitar anthems about the girl who left you at the mall. Nope. It’s time to move on. Joan of Arc and Los Campesinos! have. Won’t you join them?
1OK. Really, emo was never a viable genre and certainly hasn’t been around for a long, long time. I’m using it as my only way to connect these two seemingly different albums for a review. I realize that this is lame, but I wanted to write a blog post about the records that came in the mail and this is all I could think of.
2Alternative was the label for the early 90’s, but that became rather lame pretty quick. “Alternative to what?” The other label is the one I use today: indie. It’s maybe worse than alternative, but it has always sounded cooler and less corporate than alternative. I also realize that this also fails to mention math rock, post rock, alt.country, lo-fi, etc., etc. Just let me make my point.
3The funny thing is that Sunny Day Real Estate is generally considered the godfather of emo…That is until emo became not-cool. Since emo’s demise, no one ever mentions Sunny Day Real Estate as an emo band, but that’s what they were. There were probably the emo band.
4Sonic Youth is a perfect illustration of both of these misnomers. In the eighties, they were called a hardcore band. When grunge rolled around, they were lumped in with that lot due to their connections to Nirvana and Mudhoney. Sonic Youth is as much a hardcore or grunge band as they are an emo band.
5Actually, Joan of Arc rose from the ashes of emo-originators Cap’n Jazz. The other band that developed from Cap’n Jazz was The Promise Ring, an emo-trailblazer for sure.
6The number listed on the album’s packaging claims 41. They also included a poster of all the players. I didn’t count them, but I bet it’s closer to 41 than 103.
7Well, since last year’s brilliant Dark Was the Night was released. That was a great record.
8Not really that new.
9This is not to say that virginity means that they are not manly enough for more aggressive forms of music or that not having girlfriend makes them a lesser life form. What I’m getting at here is that emo lyrics often address the absence of a girl in the singer’s life. Just sayin’.
Boys Only
“Boys Only” is not the most accurate title for this post. I mostly wanted to address the idea that certain things are for only the manliest of men. It’s the idea that rock ‘n roll and beer (among many other things) can only be properly appreciated by the most testosterone-riddled individuals is what I want to refute.
I remember seeing Pavement in the spring of 1995 as they supported Wowee Zowee. My sister and I were able to almost reach the stage for Pavement’s set. Directly in front of us were these bros and their little girlfriends1. Besides their drunken slurring and spitting, these “fellow” Pavement revelers were shirtless and ready to kick some ass. Already sweaty from openers Fuck and Dirty Three, my sister and knew that we were in for a long show.
Pavement came out and the ruckus began2. The bros moshed like there was no tomorrow, high-fiving at the start and stop of every song. God3 only knows what they were screaming throughout the set. I don’t think they were making any requests as I’m pretty sure they barely knew who Pavement was.
Why were these two mooks even at this show and why did they feel the need to not let anyone else enjoy the music? I see these same guys4 at every show, particularly outdoors. For whatever reason, someone5 has played for them a Pavement, Sonic Youth, or Dinosaur Jr song that they thought rawked. This emboldens them to not only attend indie rock shows but to then “show these indie fags how we throw down at an ICP show, bitches!” Really? Do we need this element at indie rock shows, too? They already took over grunge6 and emo7; now they want slow-core, shoegaze, and math rock to complete their dominance of the summer music festival circuit. Why does rock music have to be so masculine? I don’t care what a guitar represents. This is why moshing didn’t last. No one wants that shit at their Iron and Wine shows!
While I think indie rock’s separation from a testosterone-fueled mindset is pretty straightforward8, beer is another story. Beer, whether it’s swill9 or good craft beer, has been claimed by the manliest of men. For Bud Light drinkers, it’s the quantity of beer you down in a sitting. You’re only a man if you finish this case on your own. With beer geeks, it’s about quality. “Don’t bring that silly New Belgium Fat Tire10 to my party. We drinking nothing but the Stone Vertical series in order! Boo-ya!”
Well, maybe it isn’t that bad, but I am let down time and time again at beer tastings. The beer arms race is out of control. It used to be about discovering a brew you’d never had before at the grocery or beer shop, but now it’s all about getting every beer from out-of-market locales. 12% ABV, fermented in bourbon barrels, Brettanomyces, 100 IBU’s, blends, collaborations, etc. The escalation to try every beer or at least have one in your cellar is intense.11
I sometimes complain to my beer geek friends that I have more beer than I know what to do with between searching local stores daily, having my mom bring me out-of-market brews12, and brewing my own. They all look at me like there’s fish coming out of my forehead. “You can never have too much beer!” they exclaim. Silly me. My liver and self-respect be damned. No drink up.
Of course, the overtly masculine male takes over everything. Football. Darts. Sheep herding. Gardening. Cross-stitching. Everything. It’s in their nature. There’s no room for vulnerability or a feminine sensibility. Join in or be the fag they knock to the floor.
I don’t love things like music and craft beer because I am male. I love them because they make me happy. There is no reason why these things have to be bastardized by tired gender stereotypes.
As much as anyone, I like to let off a ton of steam dancing at a rock show or playing air drums whenever possible. This is a expression of pure emotion. It isn’t an opportunity to assert my masculinity.
I don’t have to down a bottle of beer in one long gulp or hunt down every rare beer just to prove myself a worthy beer geek. Beer should be about enjoying a quality beverage, pairing it with good food, and sharing it over good conversation.
I submit that not only are these pastimes (as well as many others) not for boys only, but they don’t have to be hyper-masculine hobbies either.
As a programming note, I want to apologize for the excessive footnoting. I was influenced by the author John Sellers and blogger doublewordscore13. It will happen again. It’s like old-school hyperlinks, but I have those too.14
So, have a beer for me and drop the needle on your favorite record. I’ll see you next time.
1What I mean by “little” is that they were rather short and petite. This in no way was meant as a demeaning comment toward the young ladies. Rather, it addresses these bros’ preference for petite girlfriends. It also addresses their unrealistic expectations for the female (as well as male) body to stay tiny and fit throughout life. I’m sure these same bros had a rough time once they knocked up their girlfriends (possibly on that very night) and watched their flat bellies turn round. I feel sorry for their spouses, children, and mistresses.
2My most vivid memory of this moment also involved a shirt as Spiral Stairs/Scott Kannberg came out in this homemade t-shirt which read something like “I ♥ PAVEMENT” in red letters on a white shirt with red 3/4 sleeves. That part was pretty sweet.
3Stephen Malkmus
4Not actually the same, exact bros. That’s an exaggeration to demonstrate how similar every concert situation I have includes dudes with backwards hats and too much to drink. Mooks. Douches. Frat boys. Whatever.
5This would be their roommate from freshman year, that smart girl they think is cool but would never admit it to their bros, or the VJ on 120 Minutes they happen to catch after passing out from a night of binge-drinking and date-raping.
6pre-Nickleback
7pre-New Found Glory
8I haven’t even mentioned the constant one-upsmanship of indie geeks and record store clerks who have everything The White Stripes ever did on vinyl for Sympathy for the Record Industry or were at the last North American Pavement show and the final Afghan Whigs gig. This issue is addressed more in the beer section of my argument.
9Why do people drink yellow fizzy beer? It’s more rice than anything and you have to drink a shit-ton to get even a little tipsy. Why not have three good beers and enjoy the buzz and the flavor?
10Of course, I call it “Flat Tire” which isn’t OK. New Belgium is maybe the greenest brewery in the world. That and they do make some good beers. I love me some La Folie.
11I fall for all these things. My cellar is overflowing as I write this. I think I have a problem.
12That’s Ohio. Best recognize!
13Whom I once got fired, but he is as loyal a friend as there can be. I am indebted to him forever. You should totally click through to his blog so that his stats are completely skewed towards my site. He’ll begin to think that all of his readers have come from me.
14Now, I’m just getting lazy with these things. Maybe next time I will utilize the footnotes more efficiently/effectively. And if you’re reading this, you have to be reconsidering adding me to your RSS reader.
Cynic
I watched the last couple of episodes of The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien this past week. I hadn’t watched one episode of the late night talk show since O’Brien took over, but I always knew that I preferred O’Brien over his predecessor Jay Leno from watching Late Night for years. (That and his years with The Simpsons were easily the best in that show’s history.) He is a vastly superior comic who doesn’t have to depend on clichés and newspaper clippings sent in by his viewers to write a joke.
His last few shows included a gag where he pieced together the most expensive comedy bits ever in order to run up NBC’s bill. One night, he dresses up the world’s most expensive car as a mouse whose theme song is the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” and the next he “buys” a former Kentucky Derby winner dressed in a mink Snuggie™ watching restricted NFL footage. O’Brien outdid that with a giant sloth skeleton “purchased” from the Smithsonian, spraying an “original” Picasso with beluga caviar.
These bits were a stroke of genius as he appeared to be really sticking it to NBC by running up the bill for the show. It’s like that guy in the office who’s about to be laid off, so he gathers as many office supplies as he can fit into his car before leaving. The sketches were so convincing that it prompted outrage from viewers over wasted spending. This is the type of comedy that gets beyond those “wacky politicians in Washington” and men are from Venus” triviality. This is the same “outside-the-box” comedy that doomed shows like Arrested Development or…um…that’s pretty much the list.
Amidst all the comedy, in one truly sincere moment, O’Brien had this to say:
All I ask of you is one thing: please don’t be cynical. I hate cynicism — it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere.
While positive and gracious in his exit, O’Brien left me feeling a bit…well…cynical about the whole thing. His message was true and from the heart. He’s probably right in that cynicism doesn’t lead to many good things. Of course how can he feel cynical with that $40 million buyout from NBC…
Sorry. Cynicism just took over.
I don’t blame O’Brien for taking the money. I think it was shitty how NBC treated him. I’m with Coco on this one.
His cynicism comment got me thinking about the fine line between cynicism and critique. It’s hard in these days of post-Bushian patriotism and post-Obama Hope™ and Change® to critique anything without running the risk of the “cynic” tag. A cynic looks at an occurrence with skepticism and questions motives or perceived viability – or at least that’s how I take it. Why shouldn’t we closely examine every situation for inaccuracies, inconsistencies, or dishonesty? Should we just accept everything at face value? Is everything as wonderful and altruistic as others would like us to believe?
Because we question one’s motivation or analyze the unseen effects of an event does not mean we are adding nothing to the conversation as the term “cynic” implies, especially in O’Brien’s use of the word.
Is the age of cynicism dead? Did it get thrown out with irony? It sure seems that way sometimes.
Take the Pavement reunion. No one, including myself, thought this gig would happen once much less a full-blown world tour that includes every summer festival on the circuit. It seemed as if front man Stephen Malkmus was tired of working with suspect musicians and the rest of the band was tired of his ego. A reunion seemed out of the question.
Why are they getting back together? It has to be the money. Look at the killing Pixies made. Dinosaur Jr is more popular than ever. Even a band like Cap’n Jazz reunited for one night not just to relive old times and to give their fans another taste of what they miss, but it also happened to coincide with C’nJ off-shoot Joan of Arc’s album release and tour. These bands all wanted to make some cash off their legacies while they still could.
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with any of this. It’s great that Conan O’Brien was at least able to walk away with millions (sadly sans the masturbating bear). I love that my favorite band Pavement will make a ton of money this summer. They should. I won’t begrudge them that. If pointing out monetary benefits as motivation or somewhat justifiable consolation makes me a cynic, then so be it.
Cynicism is not dead (nor irony). Sure, it’s critique’s older, uglier step-brother, but it’s necessary. It shouldn’t paralyze us with apathy. However, it also won’t keep us from smashing those rose-colored glasses of ignorance. I’m okay with tempered cynicism. It has it’s place no matter what Conan O’Brien or anyone else has to say about it.
Of course, as I write this, I’m wondering if I just wanted to up my visitor count by mentioning “Conan O’Brien” and “Pavement reunion” all over this post. Maybe I am, but it doesn’t mean that this post holds any less truth.
Oh, and cynicism is welcome in the comments. See, there is a place for cynicism in this world.
Trust and Choice
I trust my partner. She makes it easy as she is probably the smartest person I know. I know that whatever decision or choice she makes is researched and well-reasoned.
When she decided that she was OK with getting pregnant, I knew she had thought things out. If it happened, she would be due at the beginning of a semester, giving her leave for that entire fall.
As we navigated prenatal care and birthing options, her poise and thoughtfulness revealed themselves to me time and time again. No matter what doctors, midwives, or family thought, we knew that a home birth – one with as little medical intervention as possible – was right for us. It was her body, our fetus, and our choice.
Even had we decided not to see the pregnancy to full term, I know that it would have been the right choice. My partner – and any woman for that matter – doesn’t make such decisions lightly. As with the pregnancy and birth, she carefully considers options and consequences. Birth is not a simple thing to make a decision over a cup of coffee or on a whim. Every person who makes a decision to have kids or not considers it very, very carefully.
I trust that anyone who is faced with pregnancy thinks long and hard about their next step. It would be foolish to think otherwise. They may not always make what you or I think is the right decision, but they take it very seriously.
It’s important that we trust women with such decisions. They can decide what’s right for their bodies. That’s not up to you or me and certainly not the government. I trust that every woman will make the choice that is right for her.
This trust is what drives the movement to protect a woman’s right to choose. I want people to trust that I will do what’s right for me, allowing me to make decisions for myself. So, I trust that women will do the same. Whether it involves birthing or abortion, it is important we trust women to make these decisions for themselves.
Let’s do what we can to keep abortion and other family planning measures accessible, safe, and protected under the law. Check out NARAL’s site to learn more about this issue of a woman’s choice and today’s “Blog for Choice” effort.
I mean, you don’t have to. It’s your choice. I trust you to make the right decision.
Haiti
I tried to approach the Haiti earthquake disaster on this blog, but I couldn’t find a way to do it without making light of the situation. Rather than offend or knock a people down some more now that they’re already so low, I opted to wait. I waited for the right message that somehow tied indie rock and craft beer to this devastating event in Haiti. Of course, there really is no way to do this smoothly, but I’ll try.
People all over are doing what they can to help the people in Haiti. It’s much like the outpouring that resulted after the Katrina or the tsunami disasters. When a disaster hits, we look out for our fellow man and donate what we can to help the recovery efforts.
Indie rockers are no different. Arcade Fire’s Régine Chassagne made a plea for her former countrymen in an online newspaper. Paste and a bunch of bands released some free music in exchange for donations to the relief effort. In an email I received from Port O’Brien today, they had music to donate as well…
NEW EP OUT TODAY TO BENEFIT RELIEF IN HAITI
TODAY – January 19- we are releasing a new EP called the Pan American Sessions. 100% of the proceeds are going to Doctors Without Borders and their relief efforts and aid in the wake of the January 12 earthquake in Haiti. Its a devastating time. And we need to give. The EP is available via our myspace and www.portobrien.com for $4. It contains 4 alternate versions of “My Will Is Good”, “Oslo Campfire”, “Calm Me Down”, and “Leap Year” all of which were recorded with Jason Quever at his Pan American Studios in San Francisco. For more information on Doctors Without Borders, go to our website.
Even craft brewers are getting into the act. Donations and benefit events are going on all over the beer world. BeerNews.org has a full rundown here.
So, everyone’s getting in on the act.
In case you needed another reason, there’s this…
Now that I’ve given the disaster its proper time and respect, let me tell how I really feel. It’s too little, too late. Sure, we should all give to whatever Haiti relief effort we feel is best, but what have we all been doing for the past several decades? It’s not as if Haiti was a thriving nation with a pristine health care record and solid infrastructure. Nope. Haiti was a mess before this earthquake, is a more of a mess because of this earthquake, and will continue to be a mess long after this earthquake. The earthquake just called new attention to Haiti’s plight. We’ll give and give to Haiti…that is, until the next disaster.
How do I know this? Look at the areas affected by the tsunami. Look at New Orleans.
We’ll fall all over ourselves to help these people. We’ll save some lives. We’ll build some shelter. We’ll send a lot of food. However, when it no longer becomes cool to support Haiti, we’ll leave it as it was before the earthquake, worse even.
I know this is a big box of cynicism in a time we should be pulling together, but what evidence is there that Haiti will be different from disasters of the past? We’ll do what we can for a few weeks, then it will be time for those Haitians to fix their own country. As a friend paraphrased comments from Fark said, “They’re going to need a whole lotta bootstraps.”
That’s how we roll in the US. We have enough to get by, maybe even a little extra. There’s enough extra to give a little here, text something to give a little there, and maybe send a little more over there. Then, we pull out and expect that it’s fixed, because we have our own problems. We have to take care of our own. We have car payments and mortgages for homes we can’t afford and iPods to buy, etc.
I’m no better. This is just how I see it. Call me a cynic all you want, but it doesn’t make what I say any less accurate.
Maybe this disaster will be different, but I somehow doubt it. In the meantime, at least give something to the numerous causes linked above. Thanks.
The Benefit of the Doubt
T
here are two ways one can earn benefit of the doubt status. The phrase means that one receives no judgment until all the evidence is in. This benefit is gained when previous experiences have been generally positive, leaving one to believe that current, questionable events are an anomaly or need time to sink in. This perk is earned either with with a short resume only displaying stellar production or a long history of mostly superior efforts.
Spoon has earned the right to always receive the benefit of the doubt. They suffered through a bad move to the majors in the 90’s only to emerge as one of the essential acts of the last decade. Their oeuvre is filled with way more good than bad. If Elvis Costello and Mick Jagger had a baby, they’d call it “Spoon.” That’s how highly I regard Spoon. I saw them play an atrociously boring set a few years back. Because of their history and past accomplishments, I gave Spoon another chance and was rewarded with a “best concert ever” kind of performance. Seriously.
So, when their latest effort, Transference, hit me in the face with made-up-on-the-spot, half-finished demos, I was taken aback. Then, I gave it another listen. Spoon, 16 years in, are still experimenting. They’re tinkering with their sound in an effort to grow and develop beyond “The Way We Get By.” The songs are different and minimalist. It’s an underwhelming record for sure, but when you hit “play” for a second go around, the groove hits you, makes you smile the only way a band like Spoon can. Then you remember why you gave Spoon the benefit of the doubt.
Vampire Weekend, on the other hand, deserves the benefit of the doubt solely based on 2008’s self-titled debut. Vampire Weekend was as triumphant an overly hyped debut as I can remember. They could have done a song-for-song response to Chinese Democracy featuring Miley Cyrus and Buckethead and it would have scored a 6.5 on Pitchfork. Instead, they opted to expand their sound and build on the Afro-pop that made them indie darlings for their follow-up. It’s as infectious and full of Google hits as the debut. Like Spoon, VW didn’t need the benefit of the doubt, but they’re earning it with each release.
Meh, we’ll see how long this Paul Simon-Afro-pop thing lasts to keep VW at the top of the so-called charts. Regardless, Spoon will be there to stay, always earning the benefit of the doubt, coming out on top in the end.
Beer and Pavement 
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